Tempered
by Cards and Castles
Summary: Signed up for God knows what, at a subdivision company of TF Industries, was not exactly on the Engineer's list of dreams as a kid. Though, it sure as Hell pays well, and even though the company is a bit.. Odd, she likes it here. It reminded her of good days back home. Fem!Engineer x Pyro Rated M for swearing, alcohol use, gore, and maybe smut later on.
1. Visit

**I do not own Team Fortress 2, or an of its characters. Those rights belong to Valve. Lovely company they are~.**

 **Oh man. A TF2 Fanfiction. With a _female_ character.**

 **Apparently some people don't like female characters in TF2. I've never really understood that, but I assure you- _no one_ here is going out in the battlefield in five tons of makeup and the world's biggest rack on their chests.**

 **I'll admit, I'm pretty new to this whole writing thing. I _think_ I know enough to actually have at it, but eh. Lemme know if it sucks or not with a review. Or advice! Advice is sweet too. Anyways, enough rambling. HERE YOU GO.**

* * *

Life at the Reliable Excavation Demolition was odd at first. If you would call being shot at, killed, and brought back from the dead, odd. They never told her what it'd be like when she signed the dozens of contracts and what she thought seemed like a hundred thousand waivers. Anyone in their right mind would have declined such a strange and suspicious job opportunity. But alas, she was in a little bit of a problem.

Now, she was a smart woman. Eleven hard earned science PhD certificates proved that without question. But that was just the thing- she never paid attention to anything else besides math and science. She wasn't "dumb" in other subjects. She was just a little under the average person's knowledge in trivial matters. She could read and write just fine, although her handwriting was just a bit of the rough side.

Finding a suitable job was hard for her. There were many companies seeking out her employment, but all of them were not to her liking. She never wanted to be a plumber, or an electrician, or even a architect. She just liked building things. So when a strange woman in a purple dress and some rather large looking glasses showed up in her humble family built house in Bee Cave, Texas- her curiosity was easily attracted.

The woman- Miss Pauling she called herself- offered her a place in a subdivision of TF Industries. She could remember that day like it was just five seconds ago.

* * *

"Did I say something amusing, Miss Conagher?" Miss Pauling asked.

"Pardon my rudeness Miss Pauling, but I thought I just heard you say TF Industries. N-" The Engineer said while laughing.

"I did."

Her laugh died down, and she gave Miss Pauling a bored look,"So you're tellin' me that ya' came all the way down from Washington- from probably the largest military and weapons supplier companies around- just to hand me about a' thousand papers in that there folder a' your's?"

"Precisely, Miss Conagher. Actually, this is more so of a start date for you. If you decide to sign these papers that is."

"Now why in Hell would I go and do that?"

"You're currently unemployed, with no money, and because of such, your house is going to be taken soon." Miss Pauling stated in a deadpan manner.

Engineer tilted her head up, watching the woman in front of her. she then gave a sigh, lowering it back down,"Well.. Guess I ain't got a choice but to hear ya' out.."

"Oh no. I won't be here for more than two minutes." Miss Pauling then handed the folder to the Texan,"There will be a number in that folder that you should call if you sign off on the signature lines. Somebody will come pick you and all of them up afterwards."

"Pick me up..?"

"You will just have to find out if you sign off on those. And I saw the workshop outback. I think you would fit nicely with our line of work." Miss Pauling said.

The lady then fixed her glasses and turned, walking down the dirt path to a black vehicle with tinted windows. Getting into the car, it started up after a few seconds, and drove away quickly. The Engineer stood there with the inch thick file in her hands, now very spent the entirety of a good week reading those damn papers- and sign off on every single one she did.

* * *

When she made the call, she was on a plain to God knows where. She watched the ground below for a long while, before she finally fell asleep. The Engineer awoke just in time to see a town not far off. They circled, and eventually landed in the town of Tuefort, New Mexico.

Grabbing her luggage (a simple suitcase, along with her guitar case) and stepping off the plane, she saw Miss Pauling waiting. Most likely for her. The Engineer approached the small woman and gave a light nod.

"Howdy, Miss Pauling. How do ya' do?" The Texan asked.

"Fine. Come with me. We have to get you fitted." Miss Pauling said, as she turned around and began to walk away, with a notebook tucked underneath her arm and shoulder.

The Engineer followed, seeming confused,"Uh.. Fitted?"

"We require all personnel on base to be fitted with a uniform so that they are easily recognizable and fit in well."

"Ah.. I don't mean to badger ya' with questions an' all, but.. This don't seem just a tiny bit odd to ya'? Y'know.. Ya' seem to know a lot about me, but I barely know a thing about y'all." The Engineer said, seeming slightly apologetic in tone.

"I am well aware of how different our protocol is from other companies, Miss Conagher. Our process is easy and fast, so that we waste little time." Miss Pauling replied.

The two approached the same black vehicle that the Engineer saw last time. Miss Pauling entered the driver's seat, while the Texan loaded her luggage into the trunk. She relaxed slightly as they began to drive from the airport, and away from the town in general. The desert stretched as far as the eye could see, but it wasn't the kind of sand desert. Mostly dust, and a lot of dry dirt. And rocks. A _lot_ of rocks. It was calming in a way.

Don't get her wrong- the Engineer likes people- but only the _right_ kinds of people. People that are practical. They do the things they say they will- they don't just sit around and wait for someone like her to do the task. Unfortunately, a lot of people were not that inclined. Though, she kept her anger to herself. She wasn't passive aggressive either- she just bottled it all in. And when she was angry, well.. Boy, you best hope you ain't the target.

Miss Pauling uttered a small curse as she looked at her watch,"Shit.. Screw it- I don't have time- do you know your measurements?"

Well that was sort of impolite to ask.

"Ah.. L-" The Engineer was cut off as the now irritated lady spoke again.

"Nevermind. I need to make a call." She said, and with that, the woman took a cell phone out of her pocket, and dialed a number like she had done it billions of times. Not a moment later, she was speaking again,"It's me. Yes, I got her. On our way to the base now. Yes ma'am. I won't be late ma'am. Uh.. Yes, I am running twelve seconds behind schedule, I-.. Yes ma'am.. Thank you, ma'am." She hung up the phone then, placing it back in her pocket.

The Engineer cleared her throat slightly,"So.. Pardon me for askin', but was that your boss?"

Miss Pauling kept her eyes glued to the road, seeming a bit tense,"Yes."

"I don't mean t' insult her or anything, but.. She sounds a tad bit strict.."

"Very.." The woman in purple replied with a bit of exhaustion mixed in.

"Well, I'm sure she don't mean nothin' by it. Well.. I mean, she must have a good reason t' push you so roughly. At least, that's what I could hear from over here- sorry for listenin' in to what's none of my bees wax."

Miss Pauling seemed conflicted for a moment,"It's just a bit overwhelming."

The Engineer nods slowly, seeming contemplative,"Well, that's just a given. Let me see, ah.. The way you explain it- her givin' ya' work t' make ya' overwhelmed and all.. And her strict tone.. Think of er' as a scolding mama, constantly pushing you t' do just a bit better every time you succeed."

Miss Pauling relaxed just a little bit at hearing this, and gave a soft hum,"Hm. Never thought of it like that before. Interesting.. I, uh.. Thanks."

The Engineer gave the woman one of the world's most kind smiles,"Don't mention it, pardner."

Now it was Miss Pauling's turn to clear her throat, and then she was back to her usual business-like self,"Your uniform will be at a shipment drop sight a few miles away from the base. It's a small broken down shack. I'll drive you to that, you get changed, and then we go on for a few miles to the base."

"Well, if it's only a few miles away from this base you keep speakin' about, I'd be glad to cut your time with me short. So you can earn back that, uh.. Twelve seconds ya' lost gettin' me here. I don't mind the heat at all- this place ain't got nothin' on the good ole Texas frontier." The Texan insisted.

"You sure? Alright, if you say so. You're a big help, Miss Conagher." Miss Pauling gave a faint smile.

"Please, call me Della."

"Della.. Oh! That reminds me. You're being given a new name. Er- not really _name_ , but the people you will be working with go by their class names."

Della seemed confused for a moment,"So ya' mean like a nickname?"

"Yes, exactly. Each nickname, pertains to what you do. For instance, your's is the Engineer. Or, well- people won't say the 'the' part. Just Engineer."

The Engineer pondered this for a moment,"Huh.. Engineer? Vague and simple. I like it."

"Good, because even if you hated it, we couldn't change it."

"So who am I exactly workin' with? Other engineers?"

Miss Pauling shook her head,"No. You'll be working with eight other people on a team. They have their own nicknames too, like Medic, Spy, Heavy, and- uh- Scout."

Della gave a slow nod in understanding, and then tilted her head slightly, looking back to the woman beside her,"So why go through all the trouble of a nickname when you could just use our real names?"

"I don't.. Actually have an answer for that. It's just highly recommended that you do so. You can tell other people your name, but.. That'd seem a bit weird to them. You also signed off on a sort of 'rent' for one of our base rooms. You'll be staying there for maybe a few weeks, and then you and your team will move out to a different base for a different assignment. And don't worry.. Everything available at the base, is free to you, and your team. Your company pays for all of that. We basically take care of you. The payment is your continued working with us. Also. You can file in requests for the supply drops, for whatever you need- so long as you provide a reason for it, and we deem it _not_ stupid." Miss Pauling explained.

"Well, course' I wouldn't request anythin' stupid. I don't think anyone would wanna back up the process of important goods and needs."

Miss Pauling rolled her eyes slightly and gave a small huff,"You'd be surprised, Della."

About an hour or so later, the vehicle came up to a small, rusted, and worn down metal shack on the side of the road. Clearly it looked abandoned, and one could probably catch about a billion diseases if they cut themselves upon the rusted metal. The car stopped as Miss Pauling turned to look at the Engineer.

"This is it. You'll find your outfit in there. If it's too big or small, leave me a message and I'll take care of it when I can." She said.

The Engineer gave a nod and pat the woman beside her on the shoulder,"Thank you kindly, Miss Pauling. I reckon I just keep followin' the road and all get there?"

"Keep following the road until you reach a broken down billboard. Then, move East. You'll see it. It's hard to miss once you get close."

The Engineer gave a nod and hopped out of the vehicle after thanking Miss Pauling again. She quickly rounded to the trunk of the car, and opened it. She took hold of her guitar and bag, and shut the trunk. The vehicle then sped off as soon as this happened, leaving a trail of dust. It was almost comical how much of a rush that woman was in. The Texan chuckled to herself and proceeded to the shack. She leaned her guitar against one of the walls, making sure it was steady, and then set down her suitcase. Upon entering the shack, it was a bit warmer than outside. It had also seen better days, the material old, rusty, and obsolete.

A neat and clean wooden crate sat in the middle of the shack, sticking out like a sore thumb. She knelt down on the creaking wood, and began to pry open the top- which proved fairly easy. She expected it to be nailed shut. Peering inside the odd crate, the first thing to catch her eyes, was the yellow hardhat. She took the hat out, and inside of it, rested a pair of black goggles. The lens were tinted, as expected. Next was a light red collared shirt, which had a yellow circle with a red wrench in it on the upper arms of the shirt. After that, she found a yellow gloved, with the fingers tipped with grey. She failed to find the other. There were also deep maroon.. Er.. Half- overalls, that stopped just above her knee, along with yellow knee guards, a utility belt (with two pouches to hold her tools in), a white undershirt, a pair of very deep red trench pants, and some brown boots.

It was.. Actually a bit stereotypical, really. But, none the less, the Engineer began to change out of her current clothing, and into the uniform. The white undershirt came first, then the collared shirt. The overalls went over that, and she had no trouble getting that on. She then stepped into the pant legs, buttoned them up. The Texan then stepped into the brown boots, tying them tightly, before tightening the utility belt around her waist (just to keep the overalls from swinging around on her front too much). She also put on the metal knee guards, though she doubted she would need them at the moment.

After packing her original clothes away into her suitcase (along with the hardhat and goggles, because those would just act as conductors for the heat), she slung the strap to her guitar case over her chest and shoulder, letting it rest on her back. The Engineer then picked up her suitcase, and began to make her way down the road, whistling to herself as she did.

 _"This'll be interesting_ ," She thought.

* * *

 **I don't actually have any scheduled update times either. If I had to guess, I'd post every other day.** **Love ya' readers.**


	2. Not Your Average Day

**Don't ride your bike with sandles. Chances are, you're going to get some supr srs road burn on your foot. Ow.**

* * *

So maybe New Mexico _is_ onto something. This heat was beating down on the Engineer. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to volunteer walking a good five miles down the road. Still no sign of the broken down billboard. In a few hours, the sun will go down, and leave this desert to the coldest of cold.

What was she doing here, anyways? All of this seemed mighty _odd._ Maybe there were a few bandits down the road, ready to mug her (not that they would be able to steal much). Or perhaps Miss Pauling was wrong about how far the sign was..? No, that couldn't be it. For the little time the Texan knew the assistant, they seemed to be quite organized and on time. She still couldn't exactly place a finger on the reason why she was currently walking through a hot, dry, desert, on her way to some 'base' that she was hired to work on. But she supposed it was all worth it. The _average_ once a month payout was more than she had ever earned in three total years.

But the company she now worked for was very secretive. They refused to tell her what she'd actually be doing, until someone else operating on the sight would inform her of her duties. In fact.. Eight people doesn't seem like much of a team. And they weren't other engineers, either. What did Miss Pauling say..? She mentioned a few of the classes. But why the Hell would they need a _spy_ for? And a scout? The Engineer gave an exhausted sigh.

The hum of an engine sounded off in the distance. The Texan turned her head slightly at the oncoming vehicle. It looked like a supply delivery truck. Probably coming back from delivering whatever they were carrying back from Tuefort. She got off the side of the road, and onto the flat, orange, desert dirt. After a few moments later, the delivery truck sped past her rather quickly. It kept on driving, and then slowed down. Eventually, it stopped, and began to reverse quickly,before stopping just in front and to her left. She kept on walking, and the car then proceeded to follow her. She gave a sideways look at the window as it began to roll down.

A young man (or was he a boy?) looked at her with an eyebrow raised from it. He had a rather noticeable sharp jawline, and a small nose. He also had brown hair, though that was covered by a deep grey baseball cap. He wore a red shirt, with the sleeves bunched up to his upper arms, and a pair of aluminum dogtags. He spoke after a second, his accent revealing that he was most likely from the Boston area. Definitely.

"Uh.. You the new guy? Er- girl. Whateva'." He asked.

The Engineer gave him a look,"You're talkin' about the RED divsion, right?"

He nodded once,"Yeah, you're the new guy. Wasn't expectin' a chick, but aight'. We weren't expectin' you either, so if you wanna ride, you're sitting in the back, toots."

Toots. Now if he hadn't of had a bored look on that tiny little face and had known how insulting he sounded, she'd of had him in a headlock right about now. A clicking noise from the back of the truck snapped her out of her morbid imaginations, and she simply gave a nod, before rounding the vehicle, and hopping into the rectangular space. She closed the shutter, and the truck began to move again. Two metal benches were attached to the walls of the small space, unoccupied. A door was at the back, that presumably led to the cabin. There were a few crates scattered on the right bench, though she didn't know what they were filled with. Food supplies, probably. The exhausted Texan took her seat on the other bench and closed her eyes.

* * *

The squeal of the breaks awoke her from her lazy nap. The Engineer straightened up as the vehicle came to a stop, and the door began to open. The boy stepped through, surprised, and motioned to her.

"Totally forgot you were here, honestly. You're, uh, kinda quiet. I won't ask if ya' a BLU Spy or not, cuz you kinda woulda stabbed us already.. Oh, but hey! While you're here you can help me an' Heavy bring this crap in. The name's Scout, by the way." The Boston boy said.

The Engineer gave a slight nod, already picking up a crate. It was rather heavy. Scratch that, very heavy.. But she could manage. The shutter of the truck opened up, and the Texan's jaw might as well have hit the floor. Before her, a large (to put it lightly) man was standing before her. Not all fat, either. The man had some massive muscles. He had short legs, but man his body was tall. The Engineer was pretty sure if this man took off his shirt in the woods, someone would claim they had seen Bigfoot.

By what she could see, the big man wore a red shirt with the sleeves pulled just about the middle of his upper arms. A red fist laid in the center of an orange circle on both sleeves, so at least he was.. Well.. Friendly wouldn't be the term, given his rather passive, but angry look. The shirt was tucked in to dark grey pants, with a large belt holding them up. The man also wore black trench boots. A very short and faint stubble graced his jaw, extending all the way to his sideburns, that lead to. Well, nothing. He was bald.

"Why does Engineer stare at me?" The large man said in a thick Russian accent.

The gaping Texan quickly cleared her throat and offered the heavy box to the man, giving a friendly smile.

"Pardon my rudeness. I was just surprised at how big an' strong ya' look. Do you mind helpin' me carry this one? It's a bit heavy." She replied.

He only grunted in response, but took the crate along with two others, stacking them on top the first. Yes, he was clearly strong.. As the man walked away, it dawned on her that he probably thought she was making fun of him. Even Scout thought she was, and was chuckling to himself.

"Yeah, these crates are _real_ heavy, right Heavy?" The arrogant Bostonian boy chimed, picking up a single crate.

The Engineer shook her head as Heavy walked off, glaring at Scout. She picked up two light crates and situated them on either side of herself, under her arms.

"Whew. Boy, I wouldn't want t' be you when he knocks the pearly whites right outta' your mouth.." The Texan muttered, following where Heavy had disappeared to. As she glanced around, they seemed to be in a sort of garage, with tools littered here and there. It had the cargo truck, a camper van, a rather fancy looking sports vehicle, and a bike. She now walked through a hall, behind the large Russian, Scout close behind. He had to hold all three crates in one arm to unlock the door, but it seemed very easy for him to do so.

The trio stepped onto a wooden floor, into a small space with a coat rack hanging on the wall. It had a few coats on it (obviously), that belonged to what looked like, different people. Heavy lead them through a large living space furniture by a couch, a large coffee table, with a TV as large as a TV in this year could be. The walls were made out of wood too, same as the floor, and the ceiling.. The Texan hoped all the rooms were like this. Seemed run down and too well worn for her tastes, but then again. She _is_ in the middle of a desert. The living space was also empty, making her question where the other employees were at.

Heavy led them down another set of hallways, until they came across a door, with a tinted window, and a keypad next to it. She watched as he literally pressed the "1" button four times in a row. The door clicked open, and he used his body to push it open fully. The sudden change of scenery was very odd. Machinery and computers here and there, coupled with the occasional empty desk. Eventually they entered a large auditorium-like room, lined with rows of computer interfaces, in front of a large red map of the world, which glowed in the room's barely lit darkness.

Again, they passed through a door below and to the right of the screen. What she saw next, shocked her (to say the least). There were crates filled with bullets and explosives, along with very odd weapons, some of which looked very questionable. And out in the open. Unprotected. Where anything could set them off.

"Ha! I love it! Gets them every freakin' time, ha! What's wrong, hard hat? Ever seen a war room before?" The Scout sneered and laughed.

The Texan tried to find her sense, though she just sputtered words, still in shock,"W-Why in th' Hell are all these damn bombs layin' around waitin' for somethin' to set them off!?"

"Scout was supposed to organize room long time ago." Heavy said in a bored manner, glaring at the boy.

"Aight, so I didn't pick up the war room. Nobody else seemed to give a damn anyways, since they walked in an' outta hea' once every freakin' week afta'."

"Is still your job to clean."

"Do I look like the freakin' custodian to you? Why don't _you_ clean all this shit up?"

Heavy gave a low growl, stepping up to the boy, whom did the same thing (Heavy dwarfed the Scout).

"Heavy will clean up mess. And Heavy is not talking about _this_ mess." The Russian growled between clenched teeth.

"Oo~ yeah, real scary. I'd like to see those meat sacks try an' even hit me!" Replied the Bostonian.

"Awh, Hell- would you two just shut your damn traps and help me clean all this up? Arguin' like a buncha God dang idiots ain't gonna stop this mess from bein' a mess!" The Texan suddenly yelled.

Both the Heavy and Scout looked over to see the Engineer already packing the explosive pills that went into the grenade launcher into a crate. They glanced at each other, and both grunted at each other. Scout began to gently put rockets into a long case. Heavy put spare weapons in their hardened cases. The trio worked silently for hours on end in the dimly lit concrete room, but each minute dissolved the tension in the room. By the time they were done, the Engineer had actually got the two to (begrudgingly) apologize to each other.

After Heavy had showed the Engineer her room late in the night, he left her after she thanked him appreciatively. Her room itself wasn't too big, but large enough to hold a bed, a dresser, and a desk with a small chair. Above the bed was a small window, showing the deep black sky and the now freezing desert land. Della ran a hand down her face and sat down on the edge of the bed, where something crinkled underneath her. She stood up, and on the red bed sheet, was a large orange packet, stuffed with papers. Written in black sharpie on the front of it was,"EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW."

The Engineer blinked for a moment as she set her yellow glove to the side, reclining in her bed, using the not-so-fluffy pillow as a prop. She opened up the orange packet and gave a small sigh.

 _This is gonna be good._


	3. A Medal of Understanding

**So, it's been awhile. Currently, I'm conjuring this up at the usual late hours of the night, where I just chill out and listen to 'some sick jams'. HEEEEEERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! Also, going to start adding dates to the story. Not wine glass and fun time dates. More like,"Dammit, it's a Monday."**

* * *

 _September 2nd, Wednesday_

The Engineer woke up bright and early, feeling a little worse for wear like she usually did at five thirty in the damn morning. She couldn't help it- often times when she awoke and muttered a small curse in her southern drawl, she felt a burden upon her shoulders. Like something she loved very much had come to an end, leaving her with a heavy, cheated, and wanting feeling. The Texan wasn't depressed by any means- perhaps she wasn't a morning person. Which is obviously an understatement. People would tell her that when she woke up like that, she was going to have a bad day, or she would feel less inclined to get work done.

Now, Della didn't want to sound rude, but those people were full of shit. She proved that every day of her life. Sitting on the edge of the rather stiff mattress, she glared over at the crisp orange packet on the desk. The very one that changed her life within a few simple sentences. Now, the normal person would feel absolutely shocked, confused, and perhaps even a bit fearful. For the Engineer, she didn't even bat an eye when she read that she was expected to participate in a daily war. A war filled with blood, death, destruction, and she quotes,"a teensie bit of insanity." Seriously, that was actually a line she read.

What _did_ shock her, was the claim stated that this company could cheat the ol' reaper. She laughed after the shock passed, and shook her head. But something tells her that, the claim had something more to it. She didn't want to dwell on that. As for the potentially dying part, where she was expected to be shot at, incinerated, blown to pieces, and or stabbed to death.. That was a bit concerning. But not shocking. Or terrifying. The Engineer was actually more so focused on what she should be feeling right about now. She knew that, death was a part of life. Granted, you were supposed to die of old age and not a few bullet holes- but she believed in her own little Heaven. The Texan thought if she was kind to the people who returned that kindnes, and respected the beautiful blue and green gem of a planet she lived on, that she would receive serenity when she passed on.

The packet also contained information about her teammates. Not their real names, or anything about their background. Just information about their job and how it was important or beneficial to the team as a whole. Although, no matter how the file explained it, she couldn't see how waving a flamethrower around at someone with a mini gun was beneficial. But, who was she to judge? These files were a nice source of information, but she would need to be exposed to all of this before she could begin to further understand it. Experience is everything, after all.

The Engineer turned her head slightly to gaze out the window. The morning sky was a deep and dark navy blue color, but over time it would get continuously brighter. Not a cloud was in the sky as far as she could tell. And even though it was September, the sun didn't feel like easing up on the extremely hot temperature. No clouds meant, very little protection.. Though, she doubted she'd need to work outside today. In fact, the Texan couldn't recall being told any form of direction or instruction on what to do today. She had received her work schedule. Monday through Friday, 7:00 AM through however long it took for a team to win, or in some cases, until the timer ran out. But, there were no battles this week due to RED being down a man. She'd start "working" next Monday. Which gave her plenty of time to meet her team, and give herself a tour of the base. She supposedly had access to everything, if not most areas on site.

She had also been graciously allowed to choose an empty room to serve as her workshop- courtesy of Miss Pauling. The Engineer smiled at that. The purple-clothed assistant acted stoic and professional, but she knew there was a heart in there. Everybody has a heart. It's just a matter of how many pieces it's in. The Texan gave a long sigh and finally stood up from the bed. She had changed from her uniform to a simple red tank top (which was moderately convenient) and black shorts that fit normally. She was hardly about to walk through the base dressed like this.

When she opened the drawer to the dresser, she rolled her eyes. There was nothing but duplicates of her uniform stuffed away in here. She opted for a white undershirt, the red collared shirt with her logo on the sleeves, and the deep red trench pants. At least, the outfit matched well with itself. The Engineer fit black boots on afterwards, and tied them tightly. Before she walked out of her room, she caught sight of her guitar case propped against the side of the desk. She paused for a moment and then shrugged. She could spare a few minutes.

The soft spoken Texan unzipped the case, and gently lifted the beautiful instrument out of its protective shell. Walking over to the bed, she sat down on the edge once again, and relaxed, cradling the guitar in her lap. She thought of what to play for a moment as her fingers found themselves hovering over the strings- anxious to pluck and grace the room with a finely tuned melody. And they did just that. Della just listened silently. She never sang- she didn't need to. A guitar could sing just fine on its own. This is how she consoled, relaxed, and loved. The soft strumming reminded her that she needn't worry- everything will be alright.

Della could remember her father teaching her how to play at a young age. He'd let her take the comfort of the couch, while he pulled up what she deemed as the worst chair in the house, and sat down across from her. He wouldn't touch her own little guitar that was almost too big for her. She wouldn't let him if he tried- she wanted to learn without extra help. But, regardless, whenever she had trouble and got frustrated whenever her fingers would slip to accidentally play the wrong set of notes, he would give her a heart filled laugh.

"I always mess up! It doesn't sound right.. I'll never get this.." She had said, giving a sad sigh.

"Not with that attitude, y' won't. Come on, try it again darlin'."

".. Ugh! See? I can't move my fingers th' way I want them to.."

He gave a laugh that had his heart in it. "It's all in your mind, darlin'. You're a bit tense. You gotta take a deep breath. An' don't you worry even if it gets a bit hard. Everythin'll be alright."

Ever since then, the guitar seemed simple. It came naturally, and those words were included in everything she did. Some people might say that she was too optimistic. Della never understood that. Since when was there a limit to how much happiness you felt? Well, she always told them they ought to mind their own damn business. That got her in trouble more than once, but each time her father had to come in and listen to her teacher complain about her use of language, he'd simply smile at Della, before almost literally dozing off. Those were the days..

* * *

The Engineer ended her relaxation time, and kissed the guitar briefly before gently storing it back into the case, zipping it up. She pat it lightly and stood up, stretching her arms and legs. She then opened the door and set out into the hallway, shutting it. She smelt a faint trace of cigarettes in the air, though brushed it off as she rolled up her sleeves and walked down the hall. It was still very early, and she doubted anyone would be up at this time. Maybe in an hour or so, but nobody occupied the showers. She stepped into one of the cubicles and washed herself up, finishing in under ten minutes. She dried herself off, redressed, and tried to find her way to the dining area and/or kitchen that was likely to be close by.

It took awhile to find. The base was poorly laid out- if she could, she'd take a sledgehammer to all of these damn walls and build them back up the right way herself. There were holes in the walls for fuck's sake. Who the Hell wanted to live in a place probably infested with termites? That settled it. The image of insects crawling around on her bed made the Texan make a mental note to tidy this mess up. The light in the kitchen was already on. Someone must have already been up, though they were nowhere to be seen. She didn't mind. Opening the old refrigerator, she rolled her eyes slightly at the whirring noise it made. The thing probably ate up more electricity than it was actually worth. Clearly, the facility was.. Very cheap in terms of living. That, and there was almost nothing but sandwiches on the shelves. It looked rather comical. Nine plates were scattered about with small little paper nameplates. One of the sandwiches were gone, eaten by Spy. She searched for her's, and then sighed as she took it from the plate.

She took a bite of the combination of bread, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and ham. Surprisingly, it wasn't horrible in the slightest- actually quite refreshing as she sat down at a rather large and long table that was right across from the kitchen. She ate silently, staring down at the wooden table in a sort of morning daze. She snapped out of it at the sound of footsteps entering the room. She glanced at the person who walked in, and then back to the table. The Engineer did a double take. Rummaging around in the fridge was a medium height (probably around 5'10 if she had to guess) man, grumbling to himself. He was wearing a white tank top which showed off his muscular form rather generously. The man also wore a soldier's helmet, so it was obvious whom this (probably) was. Also, he had no pants. And only boxers that had an eagle, and the great red white and blue.

Soldier had found his sandwich by now, and he only glared at the Texan. Which was downright impressive in its own right, seeing as the helmet was awkwardly tilted down to cover his eyes and everything above. He sat down right across from her and began to eat silently. She looked around awkwardly for a moment and then cleared her throat.

"I don't mean to sound rude, partner, but.. Don't ya' think it'd be a little more, ah.. Appropriate, to dress nice an' right before walkin' around showin' off your "Amazin' Grace"?" The Engineer said with a hint of embarrassment.

"I have served my time and have been awarded several medals! If I want to walk around in my honorary attire, then I God damn will, maggot!" He barked loudly with a mouthful of sandwich.

"B-But ya' can't just walk around in y-" The Engineer sputtered for words before Soldier interrupted her.

"Butts are for sitting down! Are you about to tell me I cannot march around in my choice of clothing in my own home!?" He said, his voice rising.

The Texan quickly shook her head and gave him an apologetic smile,"You can walk around in as much clothin' as you want, Soldier.."

"And damn right I will! Now drop and give me fifty, maggot!" Soldier barked, though seeming to have calmed just a hair.

Engineer looked around for a moment, completely at a loss. Should she give his jaw a new bruise to go with that shadow of a beard..? Or, should she simply avoid conflict. She didn't have much time to answer. Snoring had reached her ears. Soldier had fallen asleep while sitting up, though slouched over.

"What.. In the Hell..?" She spoke quietly, before slowly standing. Now would be a good time to go and look for a room worthy of her tools..

The Texan slipped away from the room in silence, devouring the rest of her sandwich periodically as she searched. In the entirety of the base, she found not a single room big enough. So much for that idea. Now, time to make a new one. She was resourceful. Hell, all these damn rooms were worn down anyways. Engineer knew she'd have better luck making a small work area behind the base. And she would. Already the lines, angles, and variables were being placed and organized in her thoughts. It would be much better once she wrote them down on a slick sheet of blue paper. You didn't actually need blueprint paper- she just thought it looked less boring than it would on normal, plain, non-special paper. It was one of the only unnecessary materials she allowed herself to utilize.

A foundation was the first thing she needed to build the structure itself. But to do that, she'd need to dig a deep and accurate hole to hold the concrete in. And she wanted it to be at least about six yards in both length and width. And that would take awhile. Maybe she could get Scout or Heavy to help.. Or not. Scout would whine too much, and he had little arm strength. Compensation for those muscular legs, no doubt. Heavy would be too impatient, if not less accurate. Soldier was a definite no. Maybe she'll just do it on her own after all.

The Engineer stalked off, before returning with a shovel to the outside desert behind the base. The sky was a very deep but still dark shade of blue at this time, and although the temperature was still a bit brisk, it was getting warmer. She had maybe two or three hours before it got really hot, and then she'd need to take frequent thirty minute water breaks during that time. She had a heatstroke once. Imagine being fine for an entire day, and then suddenly, you don't feel very well. Then, all you do is fall to the ground in the most heavy, dull, and agonizing pain you can think of, whilst vomiting at quick, random intervals. Oh, and while that's happening, you have to guzzle an entire lake full of water to hydrate yourself. The Texan shivered at the memory. She'll never be outside for more than an hour without drinking a full bottle of water again.

The dirt and dried sand was actually rather hard to get through. Engineer had expected no less, with the constant heating and cooling of this dirt three hundred sixty five times a year. It would be a bit of an understatement to call the ground tempered. Though, once she had an initial foot long hole in the ground, it became just a tad easier to muscle through the first layer to how she wanted it. The problem was, getting into the second layer. Then the third. She wanted the foundation at least three inches thick, at the least. And even that was cutting it a bit close.

When the Texan finished the first inch thick layer, she gave a long sigh. Her arms were already starting to ache. The insides of the ground were so tightly packed with gravel and dirt, that even kicking in the shovel required more force than necessary. But, regardless, she'd get through it without complaining. You see, that was the thing about Della that most people loved, and resented. Just ask her fourth grade teacher. Della had a wicked hatred for the woman- too boring, too.. Vague and dismissive. So whenever the teacher sought to make an example out of her by writing sentences on the chalkboard, Della would make a point and run her short fingernails down the board. Her father thought that was hilarious. Engineer could perfectly remember how the old hag would explain what was so 'wrong,' in the most monotonous, bored, and passive aggressive way possible.

"She never knew when to quit."

Della thought that was the only wise thing that the teacher said. With fond memories in mind, she began to dig once more- oblivious to Soldier standing a little bit of the way off from the site, now wearing his full on military attire. After some time passed, he marched up to the growing hole and looked at Engineer through the bottom of his helmet.

"What are you doing, private!"

The Texan snapped out of her thoughts and focused in on soldier, before giving him a brilliant smile- one of that which had already forgiven him for their previous "talk" if you wanted to call it that.

"Well, howdy there Soldier. I was just erectin' me a' foundation for a' workshop I was plannin' on buildin'." She said.

He regarded her for a moment, though remained silent, his eyes wandering to the shovel. Engineer waited for some sort of response, but when she got none, she tilted her head slightly, already knowing what the Soldier was trying to say.

"Shovels're right outside the door, partner. As for earlier, you don't have ta' say a' thing."

Soldier reached behind his back, pulling out a rather small, but handy shovel. Well, that was rather convenient.. And very odd. The Texan gave a light chuckle and nodded to the other side of the six yard mark, in which the boundaries were filled in.

"Stay inside the square, and start diggin' up till your side is about three or four inches deep. Five if ya' wanna go for the medal. Ah- that was a metaphor." She clarified.

Soilder stood as straight as a board and saluted,"I would like a medal that deems me professional sand digger."

The Engineer gave a nod, still smiling, though now beginning to dig once more,"Then I'll make ya' a mighty fine medal worthy of your uniform."

Soldier seemed content with this, before walking over to his side. He got on his knees, and began to stab and chuck dirt and rock from wherever his trust tool landed. For the remainder of that day, even as the hole was finished, they dug holes everywhere- just so Soldier could prove that he was a professional sand digger. And every time Soldier would ask to dig another, she'd give him one of those perfect smiles, and they'd dig together again.


	4. If I Could Keep My Heart

**"Do you have your homework today?" Said the Chemistry teacher. I then stand calmly from my desk AND SCREECH,"AH DID WHAT AH CULD!" P.S- YEEEAH, it's been a while. BUT HALLOWEEN IS JUST SO DAMN SPOOKY**

* * *

The Texan and Soldier had walked inside the base, covered in dirt, dust, and sore muscles from a long day of hole digging. It was now somewhere around seven in the afternoon, and the stoic military man had stated something about dinner. This would be a good time to meet the rest of the team too. She was curious to see what the others would look like- Della was good at remembering faces. She could pick anyone out of a crowd if she had seen their f-

"Oof!" The Texan grunted as she ran into somebody. She was about to apologize when she realized that someone had intentionally ran into her, and was now rubbing their face in the crook of her neck.

Her arms slightly raised at her sides in surprised, she looked at a rather pudgy figure. That may have been due to the heavy asbestos suit they wore, coupled with a bandolier of some sort of black canisters. They had a heavy gas tank on their back, held there by a few straps with pouches on them. The figure wore black gloves and thick boots, with an almost permanent tint of ash on them. What was even more surprising, was the gas mask they wore- Engineer could have swore she just saw a flicker of Hell in those lenses. They muffled something excitedly as Soldier hunched over and pointed at them, beginning to drill them.

"Get your hands off the new private, maggot! This is a war zone, not Valentines Day!" He barked.

The figure backed off and hopped from foot to foot rapidly while clapping their rather large hands. Then, they ran off past them both, down the hall towards the stairs and living quarters. The Texan still had her arms raised slightly in shock, as Soldier gave a small grunt.

"Do not be alarmed, private. That is the team's Pyro. What they lack in decency and respect, they make up for in the field of battle!"

Della shook her head and gave a small chuckle, and a slight smile as she straightened her collar,"Just surprised me, that's all. I reckon they're a jumpy one, ain't they? Well, that's quite alright with me, I suppose."

The two moved on to the kitchen and dining area, though Engineer had parted from Soldier, saying that she needed to wash up. After grabbing new clothes and taking a shower, she discarded her old wear in a laundry bin afterwards, and made her way to the kitchen. When she walked in, a slightly older man was slaving over the stove, cooking up an absolutely marvelous stir fry with all sorts of peppers and vegetables. He was too busy to notice her, though Scout called to her from the table. He sat across from Soldier, though nobody else was sitting down.

"Heh-hey, Engie! I thought you were gonna miss out on dinna' tonight!" He called.

The Texan sat down next to him and made herself comfortable, noting that Soldier still hadn't cleaned up,"Where's everyone else?" She asked.

The boy scoffed and shook his head,"Hell if I know. Demo's probably piss drunk dyin' somewhere, an' Spy's too much of a douchebag to hang with us. Pretty sure Snipah' just sits in his damn campa' van all day long an' drinks his piss for dinna'. Dunno where the Hell Heavy's at eitha', so. Good luck with that. Oh, and Mumbles just took off after stealin' a potato. Freak."

Della gave him a look and then a nod,"Well, that just seems a bit rude on their part. Shouldn't everyone be socializin' with eachother?"

"Pff, socializing? Who the Hell would wanna do that on their free time?"

The older man had now left the kitchen, placing a plate in front of Scout and I, and then came back with one for himself and Soldier. The dish itself was a mix of bell peppers, what was an obvious tinge of some sort of beer, mushrooms, and small pieces of onion coupled with a tinge of garlic. He wore a crisp, white, button-up collared shirt that looked rather formal combined with his belt and black slacks. He gave me a smile.

"Most of zhis' group's individuals are not sociable. In fact, you vill find that most of zhem are quite irritating, save for a collect few. Oh- and I am zhe medic of zhis team. You may call me Medic." The man who was Medic spoke in a German accent.

Engineer gave him a smile and extended her hand across the table to him for a shake. He glanced at it and suddenly took the wrist, and drew a large bone saw from behind- it must have been on the back of his belt. Della's face was one of utter shock- this man was going to cut off her hand! He then suddenly gave a cynical laugh, letting go as he brought a hand to his face. Scout looked horrified.

"I'm so sorry, my friend! It vas so hard to rezist! You should have seen zhe look on your face!" Medic laughed.

"I bet I looked like a' deer in headlights, you sure got me good, Doc.. I thought you were honestly gonna chop it off there for a second!" She laughed nervously.

After they calmed down, they shook hands properly, and began a conversation about modern science and medicine. Medic spoke of medicine, and she of engineering- the two instantly hitting it off to a good start. She listened to what he had to say, and he listened to what she had to say. He had also confirmed that, they could undo death. It was an interesting mechanic called 'Respawn' that all of those computer and interfaces down in the War Room monitored and controlled. The Engineer brought out the beer, and within an hour Scout was very confused and drunk. On his way out, he shambled into the corner of the wall- groaned- and fell over muttering something about his mother. She eventually ended up in the same state, though, she couldn't recall how many drinks she had.

Somewhere in that time- she didn't remember when- she ended up on a lab table, seeming completely dumbfounded that the Medic just cut her heart out of her body with a red vapor sinking into the wound- keeping her alive. Della watched in shock as he dug through a refrigerator full of God knows what. She did hear the voice of someone else, and Medic muttering something in return. When he returned, he held a massive heart in his hands. And promptly jammed it into her ribcage with a sharp yelp of pain from her.

The last thing Della remembered, was watching the red vapor intensify, and her stomach/chest cavity being sealed back up. She passed out at the sight.

* * *

 **Short chapter, I know. Really, really, short. That's what I get for trying to do it multiple nights at once JUST TO FORGET ABOOOOUT ITTT.**


	5. One of Those Days

**Welcome back to Procrastination Fortress 2. Anyway, another really short chapter. I start my job in about three days, so life's a bit hectic. Nothing compared to my ultimate, superior, procrastination skills. That, uh. That's a plus. Actually, no, let's- let's not include that. Here's that chapter.**

* * *

 _September 3, Thursday_

The Engineer awoke with a growl, that slowly morphed into a groan. She lifted a hands to her eyes, as if she were going to rub the pain out from behind them. She had been drinking, that much was certain. Somehow she ended up sprawled over her bed.. What had happened yesterday night..? She had gone to dinner with Soldier, Scout, and Medic.. Medic. She brought her hand to her heart and looked down at her chest. Ah, that's what happened! He had torn open her chest and out went the heart! Of course, he replaced it.. But, that is where things got blurry.. Something about an Ubercharge. She would have to ask about that.. But one thing was certain- they really could cheat death!

The Texan shook her head in disbelief, and slid her legs off the side of the bed, placing her feet on the floor. She stood slowly while muttering a curse to herself. Today, was most definitely going to be a frustrating day, with this constant headache! You would think she would be used to it, but no. The Engineer grabbed a new uniform, carrying it in her arms as she walked down the hallway. Instinctively, she sniffed at the slightest change in her sense of smell.. Well, it wasn't slight at all, actually. In fact, cigarette smoke was a familiar smell to her, memorized by countless visits to bars that allowed smoking. She brushed the smell off as she walked to the showers.

Engineer walked into a shower stall, hanging her towel over the door, along with the new outfit, removing the old. It was quite late, by what she could see through a few windows she passed. Perhaps six in the evening? Damn.. That was precious time wasted. What next in this constant parade of obstacles? She would have enough time to fill in the foundation, but putting the supports up would have to wait until tomorrow. Which would be Friday. Giving her only two more days to come up with a design for a weapon, before her first battle would begin. Busy, busy, busy. Perhaps she _would_ spend the night working. She was sure she could withstand the cold. But it would only be a matter of time before the low temperature began to bite through her skin, making her bones shiver and beg for warmth.

After a few minutes or so, she turned the valve to the hot water to right, stopping the water flow. Quickly drying herself off, she got dressed right then and there, tossing the old clothes in the laundry bin near the door. The Engineer dragged herself down the sets of halls she needed to walk through to get outside. For a place of war and planning of battle, the base was rather quiet. She wondered whether the men ever came out of their rooms. Speaking of men.. From what she could tell, there were no mentions of any other women on either team. Was she the only one? So far it sure seemed that way, though that brought up the image of Pyro, who hadn't bothered trying to remove his or her mask when speaking. Not to mention that.. Rather positive attitude considering they burn people to death for a living.

The Texan was so deep in thought, she accidentally ran into yet another person. Their heads smacked together, both giving a loud groan, and stumbling around for what seemed like a few comical seconds. She regained her stance first, but the man she had ran into, was clearly piss drunk, mumbling to himself and pointing around as he continued to slowly stumble back into a wall. His words slurred, it was quite difficult to understand him.

"Ou, behger wach were your steppinin' feet, or en geme ol wesky n'crack eh nother thing comin'...!" The man said.

It sounded as if he had a Scottish accent, but honestly, she couldn't tell. The black male wore an eyepatch on one of his eyes, a black beanie atop his head. He wore a red T-shirt that expanded around his rather stocky figure, coupled with simple black pants. He let out a loud belch, and she recalled Scout saying something about a certain demolitions man being drunk last night. Clearly it hadn't worn off, or worse, he just kept drinking. The Texan quickly walked to him, and steadied the Demoman before he toppled over.

"Woah there, take it slow there, partner.. Hell, you lookin' worse off than me.. I'd assume you're the Demoman, so I'll just take ya' back to your room so ya' don't fall down some stairs an' break your neck.." The Engineer said kindly.

"Are you tellin' me ahcaneven drink mehown-" The Demoman suddenly gave a long, obnoxious snort. "En yooou gotta nuddertheng comin'.." He said, following the Engineer's slow paced footsteps.

"You can drink as much as ya' want in your room, Demo. I'm just makin' sure ya' don't end up flatter than a pancake if ya' fall off the battlements.."

"Ah loooooove, prune-cakes.. An cheap whiskeh'.." He grumbled.

She simply rolled her eyes, giving up on trying to understand his garbled speech. She guided him to his room, easily found with bis insignia painted on the front- like all the doors, having their own sign to tell which class slept where. After pushing the unlocked door open, she almost gagged as the raw stench of strong liquor invaded her sense of smell. The room was littered with empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and many other intoxicating beverages. The Engineer began to breath through her mouth as she then nearly hauled the Demoman onto his alcohol-spotted bed. The black Scottish man seemed sad for a moment, whining something incomprehensible.

Engineer looked around after pushing him onto his side (so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit). Just when she was about to leave, something on the nightstand caught her eye. It was a old and worn picture, framed in an even older picture frame. In the setting, stood a man, a woman, and a young boy. The man, even though bearing resemblance to the Demo, was not him. That must be his father, mother, and him in the middle. It looked as if his mother were blind, perhaps his father as well, but he did not have a walking stick in the picture like the mother. The Engineer smiled just a bit. The boy in the photo looked rather proud and content.. And with both of his eyes, too. Poor lad.. Must have been rough. Though, she thought it was interesting. The Demoman, along with her comrades of war, were mercenaries. They fought, died, killed other men, and so on. Yet, it was small little objects and sentiments like this, that kept them sane. Well.. As sane as sane can be if it was borderline next to _dead_.

However.. It barely seemed that way at the moment. They were all scattered, simple pieces to a puzzle that at first look, didn't seem to fit together. Like the wrong cards joined together in a game of poker, or a math equation with no possible answer. Well, the Engineer knew three things. She can fit pieces into a puzzle just by glancing at them, and with observation skills like her's, she'd never lost a game of poker, and with eleven hard earned PhDs, she could damn well solve a math problem. She'd get these mercenaries to start being a team. Like a family. Call it her southern hospitality speaking, but she was sure that no emotion brought out more results than love.

Besides hate and revenge, that is. She knew a lot about all three.

With that, the Engineer set down the picture gently where she found it, and left the room after closing the door in silence.

* * *

The Texan ran a hand down her face as she saw the three yard deep hole where the foundation was supposed to go.

"Now what dumb sun'uva b-" She cut short as she peered into the hole.

Upon a closer look, the bottom of the crater was filled with a solid, thick layer of concrete, with metal support beams snuggled into all four corners and the very center. They were planted into the concrete permanently. A note was taped to one of them. The writing on the first portion was rather off, as if drawn by a slightly older than ten, child. The second, was clean and smooth, but a bit blocky.

 _I dug a bigger hole. My job is complete here and I have earned my medal to the highest honor. -Soldier_

 _P.S - This is Heavy. Made supports. Will hold upstairs good. Is return favor for cleaning war room.  
_

The Engineer gave a big smile at this. Well, she'd be damned, those two helped her out! Not only does she now have a place to store her material, but the two dod the work for her! Although, she wondered how Hewvy managed to find perfect measured beams for the hole itself.. Who cares! This saves time! She'd need to thank them later, couple that with a mighty bear hug, although she'd probably just break her back trying to even squeeze Heavy. And Soldier is likely to think of it as some sort of martial arts move, and slug her right in the nose. Perhaps.. Hugging, should stay _off_ the list. This is a work environment, after all (if you count a battlefield as an office.) She began to get to work on the first floor. Some good, hard, work'll get her to rest in no time. Though.. She was quite confused. How had the concrete been placed in the pit? Usually it takes an entire week to even ensure that it was done _right._ Perhaps before she's done for the night, she should ensure it would be sturdy.

Suddenly she dropped the tools she was working with. The Engineer gave a long sigh, and shook her head, before crawling out of the hole. She was too tired at the moment, despite the hours of rest she had earlier. No matter where she was, she would always be within the audible call of the great, holy, magnificent, rectangle of fluff she called a bed. Perhaps she'd even have a beer to the side to help coax her into sleep. All warmed up into the covers..

The Texan walked back into the base, a dreamy look upon her face.

 _Yeah. That'd be nice.._


	6. Rushing Forth

**And it's done! I have more time to write now that I've settled in from moving, among other things. On a different topic- my laptop screen is so bright, and it's like, what- 12:31 AM? I want to turn it down, but I'm so tired I don't want to hit the decrease key. Yet, I'm typing this right now. funnyhowstupidityworks.**

* * *

 _September 6, Sunday_

Creativity is a siphoned resource the mind filters through. It's both an annoyance and a blessing- a sudden thought that spawns dozens of new ideas, designs, and more thoughts. It is a web- so intricately woven together, in which every thought is connected to another, and another, and so forth- possibilities truly are endless. Creativity is a combination of billions of amalgams brought forth from the sensory information our body hoards into the brain from the outside world- and from again, thoughts. Every word we read, every picture we see, every memory and snippet of conversation is a small puzzle piece belonging to an endless plethora that makes up the puzzle of creativity. Not all of them fit together, and one might say that trying to fit two polarized pieces of the puzzle together would end in failure. They are both very right- and quite wrong. You do fail. The pieces cannot fit together, but from those pieces, you create a bridge that fits them both together. From this failure you have drawn out success. To have creativity is to also have inspiration. Inspiration is drawn from ideas that we gain from the outside world- do you see the pattern now, the cycle and web of excellence? If not, that's fine. By reading this simple dialog, your brain is creating puzzle pieces and storing them for you to use at a later date. You will use these pieces when the time comes, and from them, more pieces are birthed and brought forth to continue this cycle.

For the Engineer, inspiration came from a behemoth of a man, carrying an over-sized minigun that weighs approximately one hundred fifty kilograms and fires two hundred dollar custom tool cartridges at ten thousand rounds per minute. When Heavy was finished with the wooden cutout of the BLU Scout, it looked like a pile of wood chips you'd put on a school playground. So? When he went to sleep- she took that fine piece of work apart and copied everything down onto a blueprint. She put it back together too- but accidentally scratched the barrel of it. It was a faint mark- and she was a fool to think Heavy wouldn't notice that.. Sasha.. Had been scarred. Della had run from that room after putting the gun back up in it's place so fast, she was sure she left a trail of smoke.

Now, she was inside of her workshop- finally finished and looking absolutely horrid. On the outside, at least. It was a wooden, rather crooked shack (she'll never ask for Scout or Demo's help for construction again) with a broken window (courtesy of a rogue baseball) and a stained floor (also caused by said rogue ball that smashed open a whiskey bottle). Though, at least the work area was structurally sound. At least for now, it was.. In front of her, lay a heavy caliber tripod sentry, with two gatling weapon barrels on the sides, with ammo belts that automatically feed into the chambers. It fired just as fast as Sasha, but with twice the firepower, and with automated color coded tracking? It was glorious. Alas, the periodic scan only went so far. It had a range on it, and the bullet drop off was definitely a variable to couple with distance.

Luckily, inspiration also came in the form of rockets. Multiple rockets. Four to be exact- perfectly fueled and synchronized to one another, that they would all hit a target at any range, given that target was still. More gun, less problems. The Texan also had a talk with the Medic earlier- and upon a conversation about stress, she learned that the poor German had somewhat of an issue healing everybody at once. He could do it, no doubt, but it was quite tedious, and less effective since the healing done for each burst is smaller than the damage received. And so, with his help, she built a dispenser. He had given her a miniature, downgraded version of the Medigun components to do as she would with. With them, she made a machine that could heal _and_ hold ammunition for later use. All the metal from fallen weapons? Just sick it in the dispenser, and it will sort out the bullets within it, so her team could use it.

Last, but not least, inspiration came in the form of travel. She noticed that in almost all of the battle plans Soldier had shared with her from past skirmishes, that Scout was almost always on the front line. This was due to his obvious speed, and he was much quicker than the entire team. The Engineer needed a way to get her team to point A to point B in a split second. That's when, the file came in from Miss Pauling. Apparently quantum tunneling was reality now. Interesting concept that is- but she had built that too. Now they had a teleporter entrance- and exit. The recharge rate on it was rather slow, but it would save so much distance. And if she could get one hidden behind enemy lines.. The battle would be over within _minutes_.

All of her work was complete. For now, at least. She had seen a few of her new teammates that she hadn't met yet when she was rushing back and forth for metal and scraps. They gave her an odd look. She noticed she really was the only woman on the team- not that it mattered. Actually, that was up for debate. Apparently, from what the Scout told her, Pyro never took their mask nor suit off. He had said a few more unsavory things about the childish maniac, but she had zoned that out. The Pyro on their team was an oddity- even more so than the Spy (whom was never around- or was he?) Nonetheless, they were a teammate, and she would treat them as such.

The Engineer had to wake early in the morning- somewhere around six or so. She hadn't listened to shoulder, despite him barking into her ear when she was working. The team was going to get together and hold a briefing- so that they could devise a plan together. She had reviewed the map of "2Fort" multiple times, and factored in her sentry's range and susceptibility to damage in certain area, so she had a general idea of where to place the metal tripod terror. As Della walked back into the base, up the stairs, and to her given room, she thought about being shot at. What an odd concept. She wondered how military men woke up in the morning, knowing that someone wanted them dead. Then again.. Apparently, with this job, she would never die. At least, not here. The Texan crawled into her bed with a huff, and closed her eyes, hugging the pillow in a tired manner. She found herself wondering how her life ended up here. She supposed this is what happens when you sign millions of contracts delivered by a woman in purple. Out of season. Is there even a season to wear purple..?

* * *

 _September 7, Monday_

The Texan was dressed in her RED uniform, overalls, boots, helmet and glove. The briefing was plain and simple- infiltrate or charge into the enemy base, grab the BLU briefcase, and bring it back to their own. It was a bit too simple- the Engineer had many questions, but no one wanted to answer her. Except Soldier. And even then, it was a bunch of insults and orders that were never really rational thoughts to begin with. Not to mention the way the others looked at her.. She had gotten along well with Scout, Heavy, Medic, Soldier and Demo- but so far, it seemed as if the others couldn't care less about what she did or was. Especially the _Spy_. The way he observed her was beyond irritating- impolite and rude. As if he was amused and thought he was better. She'd put the wrench on her belt straight through those stained yellow teeth if he didn't check that.

The Sniper barely regarded her at all. Engineer gathered that he wasn't very social- and did not seem one for conversation. Scout had also informed her that he,"pisses in these freakin' bottles an' throws em' at people!" That made her both laugh, and nearly heave her half digested breakfast onto the table. Though, if anything were to be proven, he could shoot. Damn well, in fact. She doubted that people would be standing still on the field. She was confident in his ability from what she read in his file. And then there was the Pyro. Della often found herself back on the mumbling teammate. She was a very curious person and hated (a strong word) not knowing the answer to a question or problem. Or knowing how something operated or worked. She wasn't going to go so far as to be unkind to the masked friend- or be discreetly rude, like poking around in their things or room. But she would watch them closely if she could. And that sounds weird, but hey- you do what you have to do.

Her team was armed with an assortment of weapons- shotguns, pistols, explosive launchers, knives- everything. It made them seem dangerous, to envoys fear into the common mind. And, well. She had a box. An iron toolbox to be exact- but boy did it ever pack the most superior gun on the field. Unless if you counted the Medigun a weapon. She had always been told that the best offense was usually the best defense. In her case, it doesn't matter whatsoever- you usually win when you have an eighty pound gun on your side.

 _"Mission begins in thirty seconds."_

The Engineer tensed up at hearing the Administrator for the first time. All she knew about the old hag, was that she was her boss. And would probably kill her if she failed in the distant future. She wasn't exactly the concealing type- the threats in her information packet described that quite well. She never met anyone that could make a few simple words have her trembling in her seat,mom edge and terrified. Not to mention the added stress of the current situation.

In all honesty, the Texan had nobody to blame but herself for being in this situation. But she knew that as soon as she saw those numbers on her application, she was already hooked. She could finally fix up her old and run down house. Fix up the pens and fertilize the field- have herself a nice living place until the day she died. All at the cost of running into a fray of bullets, explosions, and death.

 _"Mission begins in ten seconds."_

Della took a deep breath. This was it. Her team was no longer sitting on the wooden bench or standing around the resupply closet. Now, they were all around her, hard looks on their faces.

 _"Five."_

She ought to be scared, but she was more angry than terrified for some odd reason. Perhaps it was all the floating testosterone around her. Idiots.

 _"Four."_

She should to make cinnamon rolls if they win this battle. Cinnamon rolls sound fucking amazing right now.

 _"Three."_

With white glaze. Oo. Glazed donuts. Even better! She'll make a recliner and everything while she sits back and relaxes.

 _"Two."_

With two beer stands on the side, that can hold six individual, cold, crisp, and refreshing bottles at her disposal. With a little umbrella to protect from the sun.

 _"One."_

An alarm sounded off- a long drone of noise, and the sliding of a metal door. A stampede of footsteps. And then the first shot- loud and clear, from a rifle, and then a thwip of metal signifying a miss. After that, a few seconds stretched into a soundless eternity.

And all Hell broke loose.


End file.
